The mania eventually broke, and Genji felt heavy, the kind of heavy that balances the weightlessness of ecstasy.
Through the chaos, he sensed a faint but pure energy. The energy was focused terror and desperation. “How could this be,” Genji thought to himself. “How could something so awful exist in my utopia?”
The creatures of Haetorigusa became fixated on Atsuko. She was fighting as hard as she could to free herself from her tangled prison. Genji could sense the aggressive and vicious intent of the old God’s minions.
In Atsuko’s fear and rejection of his power, Haetorigusa meant to eat her.
Genji had little time to react, but his main thought was, “this kind of abuse cannot be a part of my legacy.”
The biggest of the wolf heads, the twisted terror Genji had conversed with when he first arrived at this place, darted for the little rabbit. Genji was sure Atsuko’s body would not provide even the tiniest amount of flavor or nutrients for the ravenous beast.
Genji unsheathed the blade of his grandfather that waited patiently on his belt.
It sliced through the vines with ease.
The head of Haetorigusa’s mighty chifu flew helplessly through the air and landed on the ground with a quaking thud.
Genji proceeded to cut through the vines ensnaring Atsuko, including the invasive connection running down her throat. The rabbit’s speed was incredible. The second she was free, she hurdled herself away. She vanished, back to the forest, never to return to this place.
Genji felt his body reject his connection to Haetorigusa, as well. The immeasurable pain brought him to his knees as sap ran down his face. He used his grandfather’s blade once more to sever his connection and retch the remaining vine from his body.
Haetorigusa’s severed chifu snapped and leaked all manner of sap on itself. “You were doing so well,” it snarled. “Don’t let weakness keep you from greatness.”
Being free of his connection to the God gave Genji new perspective on it and its parts. What he had perceived as devious and malicious energy in the God’s creatures, had, instead, been extreme pain and the fear of further pain. Atsuko was right, there was no future peace to be found in this place, not for Genji, anyway.
“You may design the forest,” Genji muttered as he collected himself, “but the way you feed off of it to sustain your identity is evil.”
“You cannot be concerned with the individual and insignificant of this world if you mean to create the immortal, the chifu head rasped.
Genji looked as objectively as he could at everything that made up Haetorigusa and cringed. “What good is immortality if your thirst is never quenched, he asked with sadness.
“There is always more to drink, young one,” growled Haetorigusa.
Genji lifted his sword. He meant to free all these beasts from this nightmare.
“Fool, don’t you understand,” laughed Haetorigusa. “They all came here of their own free will and have no interest in leaving, nor am I demanding they stay.”
The earth split under the weight of the Haetorigusa’s scrambled horror. It slid toward the severed chifu wolf head, dragged by an colossal force.
“These beasts are here because they choose to be.”
Vines extended from behind the wolf head, who now sat in a large puddle of sap. “I told you that I was building something worldly, and this is how it is done.”
“Then I want no part of your trickery,” Genji said.
“That’s fine,” responded the chifu, “but know you will wear your weakness for as long as you hold breath and long after. You will be horribly scarred so that all will know of your failure before they make the mistake of engaging you.
“At least I will have a form of my own,” Genji said with a sigh, as he sheathed his sword and walked back into the forest in the direction of his people.
